Room, from the window of which Jill had been watching the race
with great interest.
No romping was allowed there, so a truce was made by locking
little fingers, and both sat down to get their breath.
“I am to go on the piazza, for an hour, by and by, Doctor said.
Would you mind carrying me down before you go to school, you
do it so nicely, I’m not a bit afraid,” said Jill, as eager for the little
change as if it had been a long and varied journey.
“Yes, indeed! Come on, Princess,” answered Jack, glad to see her
so well and happy.
The boys made an arm-chair, and away she went, for a pleasant
day downstairs. She thanked Frank with a posy for his buttonhole,
well knowing that it would soon pass into other hands, and he
departed to join Annette. Having told Jill about Bob, and set her to
work on the “Observer,” Jack kissed his mother, and went
whistling down the street, a gay little bachelor, with a nod and
smile for all he met, and no turned-up hat or jaunty turban bobbing
along beside him to delay his steps or trouble his peace of mind.
At noon they worked on their paper, which was a collection of
items, cut from other papers, concerning temperance, a few
anecdotes, a bit of poetry, a story, and, if possible, an original
article by the editor. Many hands make light work, and nothing
remained but a little copying, which Jill promised to do before
night. So the boys had time for a game of football after school in
the afternoon, which they much enjoyed. As they sat resting on the
posts, Gus said,
“Uncle Fred says he will give us a hay-cart ride to-night, as it is
moony, and after it you are all to come to our house and have
games.
“Can’t do it,” answered Frank, sadly.
“Lodge,” groaned Jack, for both considered a drive in the cart,
where they all sat in a merry bunch among the hay, one of the joys
of life, and much regretted that a prior engagement would prevent
their sharing in it.
That s a pity! I forgot it was Tuesday, and can’tput it off, as I’ve
asked all the rest. Give up your old Lodge and come along,” said
Gus, who had not joined yet.
“We might for once, perhaps, but I don’t like to”–began Jack,
hesitating.
“I won’t. Who’s to propose Bob if we don’t? I want to go awfully;
but I wouldn’t disappoint Bob for a good deal, now he is willing to
come.” And Frank sprang off his post as if anxious to flee
temptation, for it was very pleasant to go singing, up hill and down
dale, in the spring moonlight, with–well, the fellows of his set.
“Nor Ed, I forgot that. No, we can’t go. We want to be Good
Templars, and we mustn’t shirk,” added Jack, following his
brother.
“Better come. Can’t put it off. Lots of fun,” called Gus,
disappointed at losing two of his favorite mates.
But the boys did not turn back, and as they went steadily away they
felt that they were doing their little part in the good work, and
making their small sacrifices, like faithful members.
They got their reward, however, for at home they found Mr.
Chauncey, a good and great man, from England, who had known
their grandfather, and was an honored friend of the family. The
boys loved to hear him talk, and all tea-time listened with interest
to the conversation, for Mr. Chauncey was a reformer as well as a
famous clergyman, and it was like inspiring music to hear him tell
about the world’s work, and the brave men and women who were
carrying it on. Eager to show that they had, at least, begun, the
boys told him about their Lodge, and were immensely pleased
when their guest took from his pocket-book a worn paper, proving
that he too was a Good Templar, and belonged to the same army as
they did. Nor was that all, for when they reluctantly excused
themselves, Mr. Chauncey gave each a hearty “grip,” and said,
holding their hands in his, as he smiled at the young faces looking